


Syncopation

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [17]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Driving, F/M, Family, Haircuts, Italian Food, don't get crumbs on my couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As much as she wants to protect him, she can't deny Rusty the learning experiences of his childhood, and she can’t protect him forever. He's clever enough to take those lessons and turn himself around, under her guidance and with her support."<br/>In which Rusty wants to drive and Sharon wants that mop of a haircut gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syncopation

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I was listening to Only You by Yazoo while writing that last one. It’s my song of the week (month) and I can’t get enough. (ProTip: go back and read the slow dance while listening, you’re welcome)  
> And now a little chapter of domesticity, as I try and work some canon into this story. The more we move through season 2, the more I’ll start to bring some of those stories into my own, but I’m treading lightly, because I don’t know where the writers are going and I’d like to remain as faithful to the canon characters as I possibly can.   
> That being said, I hope you like some family fluff. Reviews are my crack, will you be my dealer? (Worst pick-up line ever, I’m sorry)

**Syncopation**

 

She moves out of the cool of the fridge, almost whining at the loss. The heat of summer is starting to set in, and with it a feeling of dread. When her children were smaller and she had more control over her work leave, summer was the greatest time of the year- sticky heat combated with frequent trips to the beach; camping with their cousins; staying with the grandparents. All those things that defined the season were hers for the taking. But since her children grew up and moved out, and work became a greater priority, all summer has to offer is the promise of uncomfortable work clothes and the smell of police sweat in the office. It lost its appeal somewhere around the time she had to work in the middle of Los Angeles without a break. 

She grabs her soda can, a rare indulgence that is mercifully cool in her hand. The can is already perspiring, and she absently runs a finger over the dew, lamenting the fact that with longer sunlight comes hotter days. They wrapped up their case early for once, and so she’s home before sunset, and she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself in the fading light, a few hours away from dinner.

Rusty walks around the corner and goes straight to the cupboard, collecting a small pack of cookies that she acquiesced to last time she went shopping. She doesn't like having too much junk in his lunchbox, but figures a growing boy will only run it off anyway, and what's it going to hurt having this one thing. Rusty pops the bag, grabs a handful of cookies, moves towards the dining area, and shoves two in his mouth at once, pausing dramatically when he notices her intent eyes on him. She grins, and he comically starts to chew his food again, and she moves towards him.

"You're getting a haircut" she says, ruffling his hair once, still conscious that there are physical boundaries they don’t often cross.

"Sharon-" he starts, his mouth still full. He quickly chews and swallows.

"No arguments. You look like a shaggy dog"

"Maybe I want to" he counters, following her as she walks from the kitchen to the living room, drink in hand. He has to shake his head to move the hair out of his eyes, and she only smirks, as though that completely proves her point; Rusty must surely see that it does. “Maybe I like my hair like this”

"You're not spending the summer with that" she says, waving a single finger in circles, gesturing to his head. "And if you cut it now, then once school goes back it will have grown out a little"

Rusty groans, throwing his head back and letting his arms go slack. He drags his feet as he moves closer to the couch.

"But it's summer" he whines. "I can have my hair how I like over summer"

"And it's hot. And I won't have you running around town with that... situation" she says with finality. Her 'mother' tone is finely honed, and the amount of times she had to coax her son to the hairdresser has prepared her for this moment. And Rusty isn't even into the music and surf crowd the way her son was, either. She can only grin, and think to herself that this poor boy is sorely outmatched. 

"Okay. Okay, fine. But on one condition" he says, turning suddenly serious as though to make himself look more adult.

She eyeballs him as she lowers herself into the armchair, and he takes a seat on the couch, leaning forward to speak to her. 

"Okay. What's your condition? And before you answer, just know that I might not say yes, and you're still getting a haircut"

He balks, and she smirks behind the can as she takes a sip. "That's not fair" he whines. 

"I'm not here to be fair, I'm here to make sure you are fed, educated and look presentable, and I'm only half succeeding at the moment"

He huffs, and wants to argue, but they've gone through these motions so many times now that he knows he just won't win. "Well, will you at least hear my proposal?"

"Okay. Shoot" 

She shifts around to look at him straight on, putting her soda can on a coaster on the coffee table. 

"Okay. I'll get my haircut, and I'll remember to make my bed every day, and I will even take those extra lessons with Buzz for stupid summer school" he starts, the last option sounding like it really pains him. She knows she's asking a lot, getting him to sacrifice time over summer with his friends for the sake of studies, but they've discussed the benefit of him making up his grades, and he's been good about agreeing to it, despite his whinging. He is clever enough to understand the long term benefits of boosting his grades.

"I'll do all that" he starts again. "If you promise to let me get my licence"

She cocks her head, and starts to shake it, her eyebrows going up and her mouth about to open in protest.

"No, Sharon, come on, be fair- I've done everything you asked" he says, cutting her off before she can speak. "I study, I cook, I wash, and I didn't say anything when you had cops always out the front of my school"

She raises her eyebrows and gives him a pointed look, not bothering to hide her amusement at that last point, a small scoff escaping. He holds out his hands in understanding.

"Okay, so I complained a lot. But I never ran off on them" he offers. “And I always listen to your rules, and I swear I’m doing my best to follow them, really”

She smirks at him, and he loses some fight. Her smirk softens into a kind smile, almost proud, because he does raise some valid points, and he has done his very best under difficult circumstances, and he is thriving. She really can’t fault him for how well he’s turned himself around, and how diligently he follows her rules, even under duress.

"Come on" he begs. "It's summer. All of my friends are going to be going out, and doing things and having fun. It's bad enough that I have to study with Buzz, but please don't kill my freedom too" 

She laughs, throwing her head back and shaking it, a deep sound from deep in her belly, and spontaneous enough to sound ridiculous. "So dramatic" she drones.

"Look, you've been great, and I love spending time with you, but think of all the time you'll save not having to pick me up and drop me off everywhere"

"So this is really for my benefit?" she asks with a smirk and a quirk of her brow, a knowing glint in her eye. 

"I'm just saying there are perks for you here too. And you have that other car that never gets used-"

"It's for my children, for-"

"-for when they stay over, yes, I know. Except they haven't stayed over once since I've been here. Which, by the way, is kinda suss"

She gives him a kind look; one full of understanding. He's never pushed to meet her family, and her children have respected that space, despite their trepidation over a strange boy living with their mother. The few times Rusty has spoken to them on the phone have been polite enough, and her kids have relayed their support to her about her choice to keep him under her roof. But they've yet to breach the family boundaries and come together in the same room, and she's not sure when or if they ever will. It's much the same with them meeting Andy, and she's a bit sad about it all, because she'd like nothing better than to have everyone together, eating, drinking, and being merry. That might be a bit awkward with Jack still in the picture, but even so, it’s a deluded wish she has.

In response she just lays her hand on Rusty's where it is resting on the arm of the chair. 

"If I say yes to this- and that is a very big _if_ \- there will be some conditions"

"Well obviously" he says, rolling his eyes. "It wouldn't be you if there weren't rules to follow" 

She grins, because his teasing is light-hearted, and she knows he secretly likes having his boundaries laid out for him. "Watch it" 

"So what conditions?" he asks, almost bouncing with excitement. 

"Firstly, you'll be learning with me. If you can't take that, then we're going to have an issue" 

For a moment Rusty looks genuinely terrified, but then he schools his features and nods his head. The price of freedom, he thinks. She tries not to smile. She knows she drives in a way her children would label 'safe', at least by L.A standards, but she won't have Rusty picking up bad habits by learning from people who know the roads better and have more experience. Or from people who have all that, plus a badge to get away with minor traffic infringements, she adds to herself, thinking of her current love and his knack for ignoring the rules. 

"Second, you'll be obeying every one of the restrictions of your licence"

"Of course" 

He almost looks offended that she would suggest otherwise, but this is important, because any mistake on his part could reflect back on her, or worse, ruin his credibility as a witness. It's imperative that he understands the reason he's with her in the first place, and the stakes involved in his life turn-around. It's not enough for her to know he's a good kid; he has to prove it every step of the way. She doesn't find that fair, but that's how it is.

"Thirdly, you will use the car for school only, until you can prove to me that you're responsible enough with it to take it out on weekends"

He looks ready to argue that point, probably because weekends and holidays are exactly why he wants the car in the first place. She stares him down, and shakes her head almost imperceptibly, and he knows not to argue this point. Sometimes she forgets- they all forget- just where Rusty came from and where he's going, and she has to keep reminding them both that these decisions she makes for him are not just due to overbearing motherly instincts. Giving him access to a car is giving him the chance to run away; she hopes he realises what a professional risk she is taking in showing him this trust, despite their relationship. She hopes he knows what it means that she’s doing it anyway.

"These are all non-negotiable" she finishes, leaning back and collecting her drink to give him time to think. Rusty nods, slowly, taking it all in and assessing the situation as he sees it. 

"Anything else?" he asks, without attitude, open and earnest, and so eager to please that she fights a smile.

"You mess it, you clean it" 

He just grins, and rolls his eyes. It didn't even occur to him that a car would mean drive-thru, and chip packets, and candy wrappers, and friends and dirty sneakers. He almost bursts out of his skin at the sudden rush of excitement that runs through him.  

"So does this mean I can?" he asks, unable to contain his grin, and his wide and hopeful eyes. 

She waits a moment- a single agonising moment in which her unreadable face looks straight at him and straight through him and he holds his breath- before she grins and nods. "You can get your licence" she says on an affected sigh. 

Rusty bounds out of his seat, whooping with joy, literally jumping on the spot for a moment as she watches him, laughing despite herself. He suddenly looks five years old, and she’s glad she can give him this moment.

"Oh, thank you Sharon, thank you. I won't let you down, I promise. I'll be a great driver, and I'll take good care of the car, and I'll follow all the rules, I swear" 

"I know you will" she says, taking another sip of soda. There's half a mouthful left, so she finishes that too. It's almost dinner time, and she doesn’t usually like to have fizzy drinks, but it’s too hot to think about anything beyond the cooling feeling of bubbles in her stomach.

There’s a knock on the door, breaking the moment, and Rusty bounds over and answers it with a grin, throwing the door open breathlessly.

“Hey kid, slow down”

"Sharon's gonna let me drive" he says in greeting, stepping aside to admit their guest.

She smiles at them from the armchair, a semi-guilty look on her face as Andy looks at her in askance, a little grin on his face. There’s a plastic bag in his hand, the outline of takeaway containers visible, and she wonders what he picked up on his way over. She hadn’t mentioned dinner, and he hadn’t either, but he notices her looking at the bag and pointedly ignores her.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks, mostly teasing, though there does seem to be a hint of trepidation in his eyes. She finds it sweet. 

"I'm enforcing some strict rules" she replies. She gives Rusty a pointed look, reigning in his enthusiasm. The boy just rolls his eyes and gives a defeated nod. 

"Of course you are" says Andy, rolling his own eyes and moving to the kitchen, taking his jacket off as he goes and throwing it over the back of a dinning chair. She hears the rustle of the plastic bag being placed on the bench, and he’s not telling so she’s not asking. "How are you in the way of milk?" he calls.

"There's a fresh carton in there" she calls back.

"Great"   
Rusty moves to the couch again and flicks the television on, changing the channel only once before Sharon turns back to him.

"News please" 

He groans and throws his head back, but complies all the same, tossing the remote closer to her on the table once he's changed it to the news and slumping into his cushion, his feet defiantly swinging up onto the coffee table. He doesn't really mind the news, since there was nothing he particularly wanted to watch anyway, but the two of them seem to take pleasure out of being perfectly normal with each other; in adopting the roles of mother and son, though both are careful never to overstep that line. For all the woman's mistakes, Sharon never wants to erase Rusty's mother from his life. Even if the only lesson he learns from her is how _not_ to behave, Sharon is conscious, as a mother herself, that it is not her place to fill that gap in his life. Sharon Beck's absence must be felt in order to be understood. As much as she wants to protect him, she can't deny Rusty the learning experiences of his childhood, and she can’t protect him forever. He's clever enough to take those lessons and turn himself around, under her guidance and with her support. He is also perceptive enough to understand why she insists on being that way, and for that she is grateful.

She leans over and collects the remote, turning it up as the next story comes on screen. Andy walks around and flops into the couch next to Rusty, a glass of milk in one hand and a couple of cookies in the other. He obviously found the bag Rusty opened earlier, and when she gives a questioning look towards the glass of milk, he only shrugs.

“Crumbs” she warns him, eyeing the hand holding the cookies and then her very expensive upholstery. If he’s going to be over at her home eating snacks, she thinks she’ll have to enforce the same eating rules that Rusty gets, if only to spare her poor couches from the wrath of boys. Her husband had been terrible; their last shared couch had been a lost cause.

“Yes Mom” says Andy, mocking her, yet serious enough to pacify her.

She just gives him a look and they both turn back to the news. Eyes on the television, Andy holds his open hand towards Rusty, offering a cookie, and the boy takes one with a muttered thanks. It’s so normal that she doesn’t even notice the exchange; such is the level of comfort among them now.

The ad break flicks on screen and she turns to her two boys, both sprawled on the couch, and Andy lost his shoes at some point and joined Rusty in desecrating her table with his feet. She can only grin, almost rolling her eyes.

“What’s for dinner?” she asks Andy, a smile hiding in the corner of her eye. She has an idea what it is, but she wants him to say it.

“It’s a surprise” he counters, downing the last of his milk.

She hums in amusement. “It wouldn’t happen to be Italian would it?”

“Maybe”

“Something we’ve had before”

“I’m not telling”

Rusty’s head watches the volleying like a tennis match, a tiny grin in the corner of his mouth and a look like a lost puppy on his face. He looks positively bewildered when she suddenly pouts, doing her best to look disappointed. Andy only barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

“How many years as a cop and _that’s_ the best interrogation you can give me?”

“I was hoping you’d be charmed enough to just tell me” she says, reverting back to herself with a shrug.

“I told you,” says Andy, hauling himself out of the couch cushions, patting Rusty’s shoulder as he goes as though he’s in on it too. “It’s a surprise”

“And what if I don’t like it?” she calls, following him across the room with her eyes as he moves towards the kitchen, glass in hand.

“Oh, you will”

Rusty looks thoroughly lost, and Sharon doesn’t let on that they are having delicious veggie lasagne for dinner, courtesy of the best little all-nighter in town. She thinks she’ll leave it as a surprise. She even thinks she might feign surprise herself, for Andy’s sake, though he’ll no doubt see through it. Still, she loves that he picked up a meal so she doesn’t have to cook; the least she can do is play along.

They don’t usually make these kinds of gestures; these unsolicited visits with food, or anything really, beyond a surprise cup of tea on break. She thinks it has something to do with them being so secretive, and having to hold back their affection in any place that’s not home. It’s not that she particularly misses the uninvited initiative- she is indifferent to having to negotiate dinner, or sleeping arrangements, or weekend activities- it doesn’t bother her at all, and she’s never really stopped to consider it, beyond the occasional yearning to take his hand in public. It’s all part of navigating a new relationship, and they both seem to understand that. But to have Andy drop in unannounced with dinner in hand, and raid her cupboard, and lounge on her couch; it is thrilling in a way she wasn’t prepared for; a level they hadn’t yet reached. She’s almost on the defensive, seeing him invade her space so casually, asking about the milk. And yet she’s not angry, because they have become so permanent- so intrinsically linked- that no sooner do her hackles rise than they fall again, warmth building in her belly with a smile on her face.

She likes it. She’d like to find a way to keep it, and bottle it, and repeat it again and again.

She thinks he wouldn’t mind that one bit.


End file.
